


In Ecstasy

by pridefire



Series: seungseok au drabbles [1]
Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 12:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20601167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pridefire/pseuds/pridefire
Summary: “Look at me,” Seungyoun whispers to the back of his ear, but Wooseok’s having none of it.“Not until I want to, you bossy jerk,” he laughs, voice lilting like a challenge that Seungyoun can’t do anything about other than accept—so he does, fitting his mouth to Wooseok’s throat and hearing his laughter morph into a long, drawn-out moan.(Seungyoun and Wooseok in bite-sized pieces.)





	In Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> it's my first time writing for this beautiful ship which means 1) i'm going to need lots of practice in the form of drabbles and 2) any concrit is totally welcome! 
> 
> i hope i didn't miss the mark too much with this one and that you enjoy reading it nonetheless! ♥

Under the morning sunshine, Seungyoun rolls over and kisses Wooseok’s bare skin, slowly and carefully until he’s given permission to drift upwards, aiming for the lips this time. Soft light traces the curve of Wooseok's naked back (pale and unmarked unlike Seungyoun’s own) and illuminates the pink tips of his fingers, which Seungyoun threads between his slightly calloused ones. Even with his eyes still closed, Wooseok is moving under him, arching, rubbing up against all the still-tender places from last night.

“Look at me,” Seungyoun whispers to the back of his ear, but Wooseok’s having none of it. 

“Not until I want to, you bossy jerk,” he laughs, voice lilting like a challenge that Seungyoun can’t do anything about other than accept—so he does, fitting his mouth to Wooseok’s throat and hearing his laughter morph into a long, drawn-out moan.

Wooseok isn’t a morning person, and it takes some time, but anyway neither is Seungyoun. He’s just in it for Wooseok’s—well, everything. From his breathy morning laugh down to his raspy, dry-sounding whines, throat parched for a glass of water; for the way his fingers trace the trigger of Seungyoun's gun tattoo, brushing over a protruding hipbone; the feeling of Wooseok’s come warming the space between their skin, his softening dick still rubbing against Seungyoun’s thigh that quivers with sensitive aftershocks.

Seungyoun wouldn’t mind, if things could last like this forever. The morning can cap it for all he cares.

* * *

Wooseok complains once, about the way he feels ‘decorative’ in his acting classes—everyone watching him but offering no critique; his peers giving him free reign to his speech but paying absolutely no attention to the words. 

So Seungyoun sits in one of his classes, ignores the dumbstruck look on Wooseok’s face, catches the things his peers seem eager to dismiss and says them again—louder this time, and with a threatening look or two. Wooseok complains afterwards; says he’s trying to make a joke out of Wooseok _ and _ his arts education and _ Don’t you have better things to do than hijack my classes and make me look pathetic? _

Seungyoun learns that day that some problems are to be solved alone, and that no matter how much he itches to play the role of a superhero, it’s not who Wooseok is looking for.

So he listens and brews some tea and strokes Wooseok’s hair with variations of _ hmms _ and offers advice, sometimes receiving one in return when they exchange stories. And he washes the dishes so Wooseok wouldn't have to and takes out the trash. He peels Wooseok's socks off (then his shirt, then his trousers) and pushes him against the couch to kiss him and, if Wooseok lets him, fuck him slowly against the soft cushions until he’s pliant and loose-limbed and finally relaxed enough to take stupid selfies together.

And when the lights are finally off, there’ll be another lesson to learn in the horizon—but in that instant Seungyoun is content to wrap his arms around Wooseok’s middle, hold him close and feel their hearts beat in tandem.

* * *

  
“Are you trying to steal my dinner again?” Seungyoun breaks the silence, holding his takeout box out of Wooseok’s reach. 

Wooseok widens his eyes, all innocence, but Seungyoun knows better and the laughter threatening to burst from the seams of his lips is more telling than anything. 

“I’ve had a long day. Be a good boyfriend and share, Seungyoun.” 

“Order one yourself.” 

“But your portion is so _ big. _ Let me do your tired jaws a favour,” Wooseok protests, scooting behind him on their shared dorm’s couch and sliding a hand around Seungyoun’s chest to trail down, down, down. “And your stomach, and your waistline, and your—“

“Stop it,” Seungyoun bites out. But he knows—and Wooseok knows—that the way he’s blushing and twitching under Wooseok’s touch is already proof of his loss, so he holds out the takeout box with a pout and says, “Fine. But only two bites.”

And Wooseok—the _ gall _ of him—grins, deftly sets the takeout box on the coffee table and swings a leg over Seungyoun’s lap to straddle his hips.

“That won’t do,” he murmurs against Seungyoun’s lips. “I’m going to need a lot more than two bites to be satisfied.”

Seungyoun is ready to retaliate, hands hovering somewhere near Wooseok’s ass in anticipation—but Wooseok has already stolen his entire takeout box and bolted to their shared room, shutting the door behind him with a cackle.

* * *

Wooseok fucks Seungyoun like he was born to do it—but it’s when he’s got Seungyoun tied up to the bedposts and in his mercy does Wooseok truly shine, pinning his hips to the bed as if without effort and rocking, rocking, breaking against him like tempestuous waves striking rocks at sea.

“Wooseok, _ please_,” Seungyoun whispers, ragged, fists white-knuckled and muscles taut like a violin’s bowstring. Wooseok’s wet, warm lips trace his jaw before he leans away, pulls out uncaring of Seungyoun’s hiss and draws up like he’s about to untie his wrists. But all he does is duck down to mouth at Seungyoun’s forearm tattoos, tongue tracing the places where the ink should be like he’s got everything memorised, down to the last curve, the last shade. All the while, his dick is pushing at Seungyoun’s gaping hole, teasing—and it’s then that Seungyoun realises what it means to have pleasure turned to torture. 

“Wooseok—come back here,” he whines, trapping Wooseok’s hips with his thighs hard enough to drag him down to his lips, and he lets his jaws go slack so Wooseok can take whatever he wants. 

“Mmm—I should tie your feet too, next time,” grins Wooseok into his skin, and Seungyoun would deny it later, but his dick definitely twitches at that. Wooseok crawls down his body, kissing a trail along the way. He kisses the hollow at his hips, mouths at the bone just below his hip, and says, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Wooseok’s mouth closes over the head, slick hand pumping the base, and Seungyoun cries out before he can think of an answer.

He has a feeling the question is a rhetorical one, anyway.

* * *

  
  
Under the morning sunshine, Seungyoun rolls over and kisses Wooseok awake. 

Wooseok isn’t a morning person, and it takes some time, but when he finally stirs it's to bury his face in Seungyoun’s shoulder and press one knee flush against Seungyoun’s aching groin.

“You're absolutely insatiable,” mumbles Seungyoun into Wooseok’s hair, and he can feel the smile on his skin even before he hears the reply. 

“Is that such a crime?” replies Wooseok, false saccharine just begging to be kissed away from his tongue. “What else are Sundays for?” 


End file.
